Until the End of Their Days
by Padawan Jess Kenobi
Summary: A young Aragorn and Legolas get in a bit of trouble with Orcs, as usual. They both get injured, and it is only their strength and loyalty to each other that can save them. Friendship fic, with some hurt heroes of course.


_**Title: Until the End of Their Days**_

_**Author: Padawan Jess Kenobi**_

_**Disclaimer: I wish I were brilliant enough to have created The Lord of the Rings.**_

_**Authors note: this is a small, quickly written fic simply because I was watching the movies the other day, and I totally fell in the love with the LOTR movies again. I have not read the books however, so I don't really know much besides what the movies talk about. So keep that in mind, and use your imaginations to place a young Aragorn and Legolas in one of their adventures pre-FOTR. Reviews, as always, are lovely. :)**_

Aragorn felt the attack before he even heard the footsteps of the first Orc fall.

He ducked out of pure instinct, and the sound of a blade whistling through the air above him allowed him the second to spin and drive his own sword into the Orc's stomach. Aragorn shouted to warn Legolas, but the Elf had keener senses, and had heard the attack in time to notch an arrow and fell two Orcs before Aragorn could even finish the word.

Two other Orcs were upon him so quickly that it was all Aragorn could do to block the first attack, and then to sidestep the other. He drew a small curved dagger from his belt with his left hand and drove it into one of the Orc's neck at the same time that he buried his sword into the thick chest-armor of the second.

He caught the approach of another Orc out of the corner of his eye, and went to meet him, when he was dragged down by an unexpected weight. His sword was caught in the armor of the dead Orc. Aragorn tugged at it, but it would not come free.

The Orc rushed him, seeing that he had no weapon in his hand. Aragorn was quicker, though, and lunged forward to trip him. The Orc went down heavily, dropping his sword in surprise as he fell. Aragorn darted to his side and picked up the blade, beheading the Orc with its own weapon. Aragorn placed his foot on top of the dead Orc that still had his blade imbedded in his chest, and pulled at it with all his strength. The sword came free suddenly, and he stumbled back, his momentum saving his life as another Orc moved to decapitate him. The Orc's sword cut the air next to him, but its armored hand slammed into Aragorn's skull with all the strength it could muster, knocking the Man to his knees in a daze.

Aragorn's head swam and for a second he could see nothing but black. He felt a gash open on the side of his head, and the feel of blood against his temple. He could feel the gentle tug of unconsciousness taking over him, but he pushed it back forcefully, and struggled to clear his vision. The Orc was striking again, but Aragorn managed to bring his sword up in time, and slip it into the beast's stomach.

Legolas felled two Orcs in rapid succession, his shot piercing both of them in the neck. They went down, replaced almost immediately by two more of their kind. Legolas drew another arrow as the first Orc started to take a step towards him, and it was dead before its foot touched the ground. The second Orc fell only seconds after the first.

Legolas turned to look at Aragorn, who was struggling to get up from where he had presumably been knocked over. He had a large wound on the side of his head, and the blood was starting to trickle down his face. He had been slashed in the leg, and the injury was clearly affecting his ability to move quickly. Aragorn seemed to feel his gaze and turned to his friend to make sure he was alright.

"Legolas, behind you!" Aragorn shouted, his eyes widening suddenly. Legolas had just enough time to draw a graceful-looking throwing knife out of his belt, and drive it into the Orc's body without even turning around. The Elf started moving towards his friend when an arrow struck his arm, causing him to drop his own bow in pain. An Orc ran at him from his hiding place behind a rock, a huge bow and arrow in his own hands.

Legolas' face twisted in agony as he clutched his arm, though he was already bending to pick up his fallen bow. The Orc fitted another arrow and took aim, this time at the Elf's chest. Without even thinking, Legolas dropped into a roll and gracefully jumped up to his feet even as pain shot through his injured arm. He reached for another small dagger on his belt, but was not quick enough. The Orc was upon him before even he could react, the Elf's reflexes slowed by the agony of his injury.

It slashed at him with its sword, and Legolas managed to dodge out of the way. He threw himself back to avoid the second blow, but could not move completely out of the way in time. The Orc's blade slashed his chest, ripping through clothes and skin. Legolas cried out in pain, and fell to his knees. The Orc looked down at him, a beast so hideous and evil that it made Legolas' blood boil with rage, and it lifted its sword to finish the Elf.

Legolas' vision was reduced to a dizzy haze, and he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Hi eyes told him there were three Orcs around him, but his senses told him only one stood in front of him. He could hear a yell in the distance, but it sounded so far away. He drew out his second twin dagger and slashed out weakly, but missed his target. He steeled himself as the Orc raised its sword, the Elf bracing himself for the blow that was to come.

But instead the Orc stopped, its grotesque eyes widening in surprise as a sword seemed to materialize out of its middle. It grunted, and fell over dead. Legolas recognized the hilt of the sword sticking out of the Orc, and looked over at Aragorn in surprise.

Aragorn had seen the Orc's blade strike the Elf, and in a haze of pain and dizziness, the man shouted in worry. Time seemed to slow as he watched his friend falter; the epitome of grace even as he fell, his blood already staining the rocky ground in front of him. Aragorn sensed an Orc approaching his own side, but he could not tear his gaze away Legolas' broken form. He threw his sword with all his strength, the blade flipping through the air beautifully, and felling the Orc immediately.

Aragorn barely had time to turn when the last of the Orcs were upon him. He elbowed the Orc in the face, and twisted to move out of the way of the sword, but not before it cut across his side. The beast momentarily lost his balance, and Aragorn used the moment to ram into it, knocking them both to the ground. Aragorn slipped off of the Orc's armor and somehow landed under his enemy. He grunted as he felt the Orc's heavy weight land on him, and he heard the sickening thud of his own ribs breaking. He gasped for air, each breath a betrayal as he was assaulted with pain. With a last effort, he pulled a dirk out of the Orc's belt, and rammed it in its stomach.

Without even pausing to check if the Orc had died, Aragorn lifted himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously, and stumbled forward to where Legolas lay in a motionless heap. He sank to his knees in front of the Elf, his pain nothing next to the agony of seeing his friend so hurt.

The Elf lay in a pool of his own blood, some of it turning a sickly black color as it mingled with the dirt and rust that had been on the blade that had cut him.

"Legolas?" Aragorn said softly, his voice wavering in fear. "Legolas," he repeated again, more firmly this time. He would not let his fear take hold of him. He gently shook the Elf's shoulder, willing him silently to wake up.

Legolas' eyes fluttered open weakly, and through a dizzy spell, he saw Aragorn leaning over him. The Man looked terrible, his shirt was torn and a giant gash in his side was leaking blood quickly. "Aragorn," he whispered, trying desperately to focus. "You're hurt," he said in concern.

Aragorn felt a small smile reach his lips even as hot tears sprung to his eyes. The Elf seemed practically dead, and yet his first concern was for him. Aragorn fought the tears and did not let them fall; he would have to be strong for Legolas.

"It's nothing, just a scratch," he said dismissively. "I'm going to have to take that arrow out, Legolas. It's going to hurt," he said, regret in his voice.

Legolas nodded bravely, his blue eyes brimming with determination and strength, even as the blood seeped out of his body. He braced himself mentally, and kept Hunter's gaze.

"On three then," Hunter said as he gripped the arrow tightly, feeling Legolas tense under his hand. "One… two…" Legolas gritted his teeth against the pain, but he could not hold back a tiny moan as Hunter ripped the arrow out of his flesh.

"Three," Legolas said, his voice ironic. "What happened to three?"

"I changed my mind," Aragorn said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked up suddenly, though the motion caused his head to spin painfully. "More Orcs will be here by nightfall, we must move." He moved to pick Legolas up, but the Elf staid him with his good arm.

"I can walk," the Elf insisted, even as he was assaulted from the simple act of speaking.

"You cannot walk!" Aragorn argued in exasperation. The effort of such an exclamation caused his head to spin, and his ribs to throb in pain. He gasped and stumbled back, just barely catching himself.

"And you can do better?" Legolas answered sarcastically, though his eyes belied the concern he felt for his friend. Aragorn was bleeding heavily, and his head injury was most likely a concussion.

"I will manage," Aragorn replied with a painful hiss.

"As can I," Legolas said stubbornly, raising himself slightly off the ground. His wounded arm collapsed painfully under the pressure, but he held up his weight with his good arm. Even that slight movement brought an onslaught of pain that rushed through his entire body, but Legolas was determined to stand.

Aragorn reached out to help him, gripping the Elf's unhurt arm and trying to help him back down. Legolas would have nothing of it, and continued to try to stand. Aragorn hardly had the strength to push him down for his own good.

Slowly and painfully, though the only sign of agony the Elf showed was in how tense he held his shoulders, and the occasional gasp for breath, Legolas lifted himself to his feet. He wavered uncertainly, but a small smile crossed his face.

"See? I can walk just fine," he said stubbornly as Aragorn approached him. "Now you can-"  
his words were cut short as he took a step, and collapsed.

Aragorn was there in a second to catch him, the impact of the Elf's injured body hitting his own hurting them both equally, though neither cried out. Aragorn put his arm around Legolas' shoulder, being careful not to touch his bleeding arm.

"Are you satisfied now, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, though he could not mask the worry he felt for his friend. Legolas was remarkably strong and not easily did that strength leave him. The fact that he could barely stand worried Aragorn deeply.

Legolas said nothing, and Aragorn knew his friend too well to think that Legolas was sulking. He said nothing because he was in too much pain to speak at the moment. After a few seconds had passed, Legolas was finally able to gather the words to speak.

"This may be the first time you have been right, Aragorn," he joked, though his smile was weak. "Though you are hurt as well, probably worse than I am, though you won't admit it."

Aragorn didn't bother to reply as he reached down and lifted the slender Elf into his arms. Aragorn's side cried out in pain, and he almost dropped his friend, but he held on determinately.

"Aragorn, you are not well! Put me down!" Legolas protested softly, the pain quieting his cries of indignation. "You will only hurt yourself further by carrying me!"

"Better a little pain of lifting you than to stay here and be found by Orcs later," Aragorn hissed. He took a step forward, fighting through the dizziness as though it were an actual being. His leg throbbed too, and he had almost forgotten about the blade that had slashed him there as well earlier. He felt his body start to give way, but fought it with every ounce of strength he had.

Legolas remained silent, sensing the strain and concentration his friend needed to simply walk the 600 meters to the cover of the forest. Every step jarred Legolas' injured arm and his chest, but he said nothing, knowing that Aragorn was feeling pain as well, though the Man would never complain about it.

Another bought of dizzyness hit Legolas, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning. Aragorn looked down at his friend in concern, feeling the Elf's lithe muscles go rigid in his grasp. Aragorn shifted his arm so Legolas' head rested against his shoulder, and continued his painful walk.

Finally they reached the forest, and Aragorn gently deposited Legolas on a soft patch of grass. For the first time since the attack, Aragorn noticed the cold, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He sat down next to Legolas in exhaustion, though he kept his breathing in check, for it hurt to breathe too deeply. He looked down at himself and was startled to see he was covered in blood, though he could not tell if it was mostly his own, or his friend's.

Legolas tried to sit up weakly, leaning against a tree for support. The movement caused his chest to bleed even heavier, and Aragorn rushed over to him.

"Stay still, you stubborn little Elf Prince," he hissed angrily. "You'll split yourself open if you keep moving around!"

"Elf's do not suffer sickness nor cold, I can assure you that I will not simply break in two," Legolas quipped, trying to mask his pain with a joke.

Aragorn glared at him, knowing what his friend was trying to do. He didn't know if it was the probable concussion that he had, or the pain that was making him delirious, but he laughed a little bit despite himself. Then he winced as his chest exploded in fresh pain.

Aragorn took out a small bundle of herbs that he carried in a pouch at his belt. "Remind me to thank Lord Elrond for making me take these healing herbs with me. I almost left them behind," Aragorn muttered. He looked around the woods carefully. "I think I know where we are, we are close to the borders of Mirkwood. If we walk a little more, we should encounter some patrols and then- Legolas?"

The Elf coughed once, and then it seemed like he couldn't stop. His lithe frame was wracked by the heaving and the coughing and each cough seemed to make him bleed a little harder.

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted; fear making his voice waver in a way it never had before. He drew forth some of his water and trickled it down the Elf's throat in an attempt to clear his throat. He held down Legolas' shoulders so he didn't further hurt himself, and eventually the coughs stopped.

Legolas' eyes began to shut wearily, but they snapped open when Aragorn tapped his face a couple times. "Legolas, stay with me!" he shouted in his friend's face. "Don't leave me, come on, fight!"

Legolas struggled to keep his eyes open. They were so heavy… but he could hear the desperation in Aragorn's voice, and so he fought with all he had. He knew that unconsciousness would be so sweet, a slip into a painless world. But he could not leave Aragorn behind, could not get rid of his friend's voice in his head.

"Look at me," Aragorn was saying, though the words and the way his mouth moved didn't seem to connect in Legolas' spinning mind. "Look at me, Legolas!" he was repeating.

Legolas cleared his head and looked at his friend. Aragorn's eyes, normally blue, were grayer now, and so filled with tears that they reflected like twin pools of water. But they were also strong, and determined. Legolas drew on that strength, and found himself coming back to consciousness.

"Don't you ever, _ever_, do something like that again, do you hear me?" Aragorn was saying angrily as he started to wash Legolas' wounds with the water he carried at his hip.

"You were worried about me," Legolas said impishly. He felt no mirth, but desperately wanted the tears in Aragorn's eyes to go away, and so he goaded him teasingly.

"Hardly, Elf, I simply would rather avoid Lord Elrond killing me if I brought you back dead," Aragorn replied sternly, though the simple relief that Legolas had not gone unconscious was enough to render him almost giddy.

"I don't think that's it. I think you have developed feelings of genuine friendship and affection for me!" Legolas teased, though his breath was labored.

Aragorn placed the herbs gently in Legolas' injuries, being as careful as possible. He then took his cloak off and ripped the strong fabric into two long strips. He tied one around the Elf's chest, then his arm to stop the flow of blood.

"Well I would not have felt right leaving you half dead and pathetic just lying there in the road," Aragorn said, finally giving in and teasing back. He moved to get up, intent on walking on, when his head was struck by a fresh wave of dizziness that obscured his vision for a moment. Suddenly the careful control he was holding over his injured body failed, and his leg gave out painfully. He stumbled forwards, just barely able to catch himself on a nearby tree. His ribs erupted in flames of pain, and despite himself, he gasped loudly. His strength failed him for a moment, and he dropped to his knees.

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, forgetting his injuries and shooting up into a sitting position. He started to move to his friend's side when his body betrayed him, and his limbs collapsed from under him.

Aragorn swayed for a moment, his eyes still closed. The blood on his head had dripped down his face, and left a trail of dried blood from his temple to his cheek. He had grown pale, and the wounds over his body were still dripping.

"I am alright," was his weak answer, though he felt anything but good.

Legolas closed his eyes in sheer relief, unable to speak the words he wanted to say. Slowly and painfully, he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"We must move on," Aragorn said quietly, starting to heave himself up from the ground.

"We have lingered here too long. It is perhaps a mile to where we may be found by the patrols" Legolas said in agreement.

Aragorn turned towards him, intent on picking him up again, but Legolas backed up from him. "No, Aragorn, you are too injured."

"We do not have time to go over this again," Aragorn replied impatiently.

"You have shown your strength, Aragorn," Legolas said pointedly. "That is not what I doubt. It is the injuries that would seep away strength even so great as yours. You are hurt, far more than I thought previously, and I will not be an added burden!"

"Legolas," Aragorn growled, his voice low, but the Elf would not allow him to speak more on the matter.

Legolas placed his good arm on a nearby tree, the moss under his palms soothing and soft. He concentrated, and felt a strength run through his veins. He knew not where it came from, but he wasn't about to question it. Slowly and painfully, he stood. His eyes were alight with determination, and in them, Aragorn saw why Legolas was respected by all that met him. There in those eyes the color of a clear summer sky was thousands of years of endurance and strength.

Aragorn stood also, meeting the challenge in his friend's eyes. The wind caressed the Elf's golden hair back from his face, revealing his high cheekbones and fair features. A sheen of sweat shone on his forehead, and caught the light of the falling sun, giving him an ethereal glow.

Every bone in Aragorn's body begged him to sit down, to give up. And so the man took a step forward, his eyes burning with defiance. He lifted his head higher, and straightened his back, though his broken ribs cried out in protest. To Legolas, Aragorn looked majestic, as though he were a King of Old.

Legolas took a step forward, but this time he did not fall. Every injury in his body said he should not be even be able to stand, and yet he walked because he would not let Aragorn down. The pride he saw in his friend's eyes was enough to keep him on his feet, and moving past all points of exhaustion and misery.

The pair walked on relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Aragorn's breathing grew more labored, and he had to push himself along using almost every tree he came across. Legolas' footsteps grew heavier, something else the Elf had never experienced. He had always had a certain grace about him that Aragorn admired. But even his Elven grace had left him, as he stumbled over a stray root on the ground, and pitched forwards.

He cried out in pain softly as his body hit the earth, and this time he could not get back up. His arms pushed desperately at the ground, but his strength was spent. Unconsciousness was beckoning to him again, and he could hear voices in the distance.

Aragorn saw his friend fall through what seemed like fog. It took him a few seconds to realize what had just happened, and that Legolas was not getting up. In fact, it hardly looked like he was breathing at all. His slender body had tried to hoist himself up once, but he had fallen back down, and was not getting up.

"Legolas," he gasped, hardly able to even get the air he needed to speak the word. The Elf did not respond, or even move to acknowledge that he had heard. He pushed himself towards his friend, and sat heavily down next to him.

He gently rolled the Elf over onto his back, and lifted Legolas' head onto his lap. The Elf's eyes were half closed, as if he were fighting with everything he had to keep them open. His lips were cracked open, and he was muttering something that Aragorn couldn't quite hear.

Aragorn cradled the Elf's head, knowing that Legolas had reached his end, and he could walk no further. His eyes traveled down his friend's body, to where he had quickly bound his wounds. Aragorn was horrified to see that the blood that stained the cloak was now oozing a purplish-black.

"Poison," Aragorn breathed, everything making sense all of a sudden. The wounds Legolas had received certainly would have debilitating and probably even deadly for a normal man, but the Elf was stronger than that. He would have endured because he was strong and would not accept a defeat. But poison was something even he could not beat; it had been a losing battle.

Aragorn looked at his leg and bleeding wounds, and saw that his own blood and skin had turned the same sickly color of poison. Orcs were known for putting poison on their blades. It wasn't a difficult venom to counteract if you had the herbs, it was just a matter of getting them to the injured in time. And time was not something that Legolas, or he for that matter, had much of.

Legolas started to tremble in his arms, and Aragorn pulled the Elf closer to his body. The man looked up towards the sky, where the sun was just beginning to set behind emerald treetops. Night would come soon; they could not stay where they were.

Legolas started to cough, but he was too weak to even do that. He still shivered violently, and Aragorn spoke softly to him and stroked his hair. He spoke in Elvish, reverting back to the language that even w hen you spoke it, it sounded like a beautiful song. Aragorn hardly knew what he was talking about as he spoke, only that he needed to keep Legolas awake. He was afraid that if Legolas feel asleep, he would never wake up again.

Aragorn didn't even know he was crying until one of his tears fell off his cheek, and landed on Legolas' fluttering eyelash. "Please, _mellon nin,_" he pleaded, "I cannot lose you, you cannot ask me to go on without you. You are my best friend, my strength… Legolas, please."

Legolas stirred slightly in his arms, and Aragorn opened his mouth to say more, when a glint caught the corner of his eye. He looked up, and was startled to find six Elves surrounding him, and six arrows pointing at his face. His vision swirled and he could barely open his mouth to speak.

"Legolas poisoned…needs Lord Elrond," he gasped, his breath suddenly eluding him.

"Estel?" One of the archers asked in surprise, having not recognized the Man at first. "Is that you?" He lowered his bow, and motioned for the other Elves to do the same.

Aragorn recognized the honey-haired Elf, which his fair features and amiable smile, but could not remember his name as his mind spun and his vision dimmed.

"Legolas needs help," he choked out. The last thing he saw was the Elves reaching down and picking up both him and Legolas at once, because he would not let go of his friend, even as unconsciousness took its gentle hold over him.

Aragorn fluttered his eyes, and was assaulted by an unexpected brightness. He opened them again, slower this time, allowing himself to adjust. There was a soft pillow under his head, and thick blankets over him. He didn't know where he was as first, but then it all came rushing back to him. The Orcs attacking, Legolas' injuries, him falling, the Elves coming…

"Legolas," he breathed, suddenly worried. He didn't know how long he had been in Elrond's healing room, for now he recognized the place. He had no word of if his friend was even alive. He moved to push the covers back, when a hand stopped him.

"Easy, Aragorn," said a figure that materialized next to him. His voice was musical, and the simple sound of it made Aragorn want to cry. Golden hair came into view, crowned by the sunlight that streamed in from behind the head. Legolas' fair features smiled down at him gently, though there was worry on his face. His eyes shone a blue that even the clearest sky could never compete with.

Aragorn went to rise, but Legolas pushed him down again gently when he saw the man wince.

"You are still healing, don't injure yourself further," Legolas ordered sternly.

Aragorn looked down at himself for the first time, noticing the white bandages that covered his arm, chest and leg. He still felt light-headed, but the pain was dulled.

Aragorn's eyes ran over his friend protectively, noting that the Elf had similar bandages over his wounds, but he was looking healthy.

"How long have I been asleep?" Hunter asked as he started to move around under the covers, testing to see how well his sore body could function.

"About two days," the Elf answered as he sat on the side of the bed. "Lord Elrond was able to get the antidote to the poison in time," the unspoken words of relief were left on the air. "_Hannon le, mellon nin_" he said softly after a moment.

"Think nothing of it, Legolas," Aragorn answered simply.

"You saved my life!" The Elf exclaimed emotionally, his eyes alight with fire. "You carried me when your own injuries would have slain a lesser man. You did not leave me behind when my strength failed me and I could go no further." Legolas' words died out slowly, as though he did not mean to say so much.

Aragorn looked at his fair-faced friend, the emotion he usually kept in control behind a calm expression broken. The man lifted himself slowly into a position where he was able to look Legolas straight in the eye. "You think I would leave you?"

Legolas shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Nothing of his Elvish confidence and sureness was evident at the moment. He looked like a little boy, lost and afraid.

Aragorn placed a hand on the Elf's shoulder, even though the movement ached his body. "Legolas, you are my brother. Not by blood, but by something even stronger. By the knowledge that I have shared everything important in my life with you. By friendship, by the fact that I would give my life for you in a second and I know you would do the same for me. If something where to ever happen to you, my heart would never heal."

Legolas looked up at his friend, knowing that there was no lie in Aragorn's eyes. He placed his hand on his friend's shoulder also, and looked at his handsome face. "You have my loyalty, and my brotherhood. You know this."

Aragorn nodded, and the two were silent for a few moments, each reflecting on their thoughts. And as the sun streamed through the window and bathed them both in light, they knew that they had found a friendship that would last until the end of their days.


End file.
